The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1887-06-23
Those Old Gardens.

Were not those old gardens far ca
sier to take care of than the modern
ones? 1t does not seem to me that we
heard very much about sunny ex-
posure" for this and ''partial shade" for
that. The contents of the little brown
papers went straight into the warm
soil without Intervention of ''hotbed"
or ''cold Frame" with a comforta BILE
faith that in due time they would ap-
pear and make the garden CAV. And
meanwhile there was always something
in bloom, to cut and give away or
bring into the house. The yellow jon
quils were always on time and the
''Daffies"-how glad we were when
''Daffy-Down-Dilly came up to town,
in yellow pettieoat and green
gown"
1t was warm then and the grass was
green, and the feeling of summer was
in the air. Moss pink never forgot to
spread its rosy carpet, nor Towering
almond to hold up its blossoming rods,
and we knew just where to look for the
tulips scarlet and yellow cups. We
were perfectly sure the great crimson
peonies would be in their appointed
place, and the columbines, canterbury
grass pinks would all come along in
their proper order. And there was
another fragrant thing we called IVA
nilla," with finely cut foliage and tall
stems and white heads of bloom.
And the roses! We didn't know any
thing about "Shy Bloomers," nor go
into raptures over the wonderful fact
of two blossoms on one plant. Our
mothers roses were never ''disbud-
ded" until the buds became blossoms,
snd somebody wanted them. Balti-
more Belle thrust its pinky white clus-
ters into the bedroom window; queen
of the prairie with its great scentless
cups Of changing colors climbed up
the trellis at the side of the front
door; blush rose, white, and deep-red
Michigan, and yellow with its exasper-
ating prickles covered themselves with
glory in the garden, and our mother
told US over again the old story of the
moss rose, which, not satisfied with
color and fragrance, begged for one
grace more, and obtained it in this
covering of the lowest thing that
grows.
We knew nothing of carpet beds and
ribbon beds planted merely for show.
Those flowers entered into our lives,
and were familiar friends. We helped
to plant them handled them, and
smelled them, and broke them off to
carry to school, or to play with and we
were better for it.
And in the fall when nothing was
left but marigolds and the china asters
with their fat rows of pink, blue and
white petals (the German quilted ones
were quite new them, and the broad,
velvety dahlias, there came a time
when, just at twilight we went into
the garden with our mothers and held
the basket while they cut off every
thing in blossom, because there was
going to be black frost" We shiv-
cred little in the cold wind and were
glad to scamper back to the bright fire
and warm our fingers. And then We
filed every vase in the house with the
bright hued autumn flowers and in
the morning everything was black and
withered, and the garden was over for
that year. To be sure, there were
bright sunny days after that, when we
helped dig up the bulbs, and gathered
a few more seeds and raked up the
dead stalks.-Mrs. Fl. annette Poole, in
Good Housekeeping.